


Yellow

by orphan_account



Series: Refraction [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Festivals, Friendship, Gen, One-Sided Rivalry, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7725643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>The yoke on his shoulders is nobody's business but his own.</p><p>Written for <a href="http://oikawaweek.tumblr.com/prompts">Oikawa Week 2016</a> on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2: July 15 Friends & Rivals | Festivals | Yellow (Intellect/Wisdom)

Day 2: July 15 Friends & Rivals | Festivals | Yellow (Intellect/Wisdom) 

The formal hakama trousers and haori jacket over his crisp kimono suit are an irritation, but Tooru tolerates them. Appearances are important, so fine, he'll appear not to want to strip down nude and run through the lantern lit streets tattling to everyone that his father's money is less than fourth generation. 

According to tradition, there's still plenty of time to screw it up before it passes hands to him, and frankly he doesn't care either way. He won't need it. Someone will pay for his studies if he chooses to take them, and he'll be a world class athlete if it kills him.

It might just kill him.

Certainly he might just kill someone else. His teeth grit when he spots little Tobio in the festival crowd, eating a skewer of glazed dango rice flour balls in such a way that it gets all over his filthy little face. Tooru sidels up and swipes at it with his sleeve, pleased for a chance to both dirty his formal wear in a way he can't possibly be scolded for and infringe on Tobio's personal space at the same time. Ostensibly, he's simply helping look after an underclassman, a fellow teammate. "Oikawa-senpai." Tobio greets him formally, spitting a drop of sugar glaze on his cheek. Tooru shudders with mild revulsion, but carefully schools his face into a light smile as he wipes that off as well.

He'll be leaving Tobio behind in another few months, and it can't come soon enough for his taste. He needs to establish himself at a prominent high school, needs to know the grounds and know them well before they meet on opposite sides of the net. Little Tobio has no idea how to speak to others, how to squeeze them like ripe fruit until their nectar spills out. He isn't dangerous, not really. Not exactly.

Tobio's good, though. If he ever figures it out, Tooru knows there will be blood to spill between them. Tooru isn't good, but he will be. No one has a better refined technique, and no one has the practiced ease that he does. No one else can pluck each person on a team like a harp string, then play them together in groups like he's finding their sweetest chords, finding the best rhythm. He just needs to fine tune them, and they'll have a perfect pitch. Tobio will never be able to tune a team like a harmonious weapon. However, that doesn't mean he isn't a threat. He might find a team someday that can stand him, that fears or respects him. Even with a lousy team, Tobio is a threat.

So, Tooru mops sugar off of his face and smiles sweetly, with a sharp glint in his eyes that probably won't show too harshly in the soft yellow glow of the lanterns. They only have a few more months to dance these choppy circles around one another, seasick and bitter as they bob in one another's wakes.

There's no one around, no one watching their interactions, so Tooru takes a step back when he feels his smile go too sharp. He's well aware that he needs a buffer in situations like these. So he gives his junior a little shimmy of a wave and turns on his heel. "I'm off to see the fireworks, then! Don't eat too many sweets, Tobio-chan, or you'll be useless tomorrow!"

Tobio won't be useless of course. Tooru has never met anyone who was as invested as volleyball as he is... except for Tobio. Even if Tobio were dead, he'd find a way to show up to practice in the morning. Something cold dances up Tooru's spine, even as something hot and bitter stirs up in his stomach. He pretends not to hear Tobio ask if he can come along, because of course he can't. It just won't do. So, Tooru bounces away with a spring in his step, just for show. The yoke on his shoulders is nobody's business but his own.

"There you are." Iwaizumi eyes him warily when Tooru climbs the hill and joins him on the old wooden fence overlooking the town. Of course there is a stand of maple trees right in the way, but during winter it's the one time of year that hardly matters. They have a clear, unobstructed view of the shrine, and when the first burst of light explodes with a crack in the sky, they're satisfied that they can see the fireworks perfectly as well. Below them, the town is a soft yellow trail of lanterns and ants. It's them at the top of the world, just them, exactly how it should be.

"Here I am," Tooru agrees, with a grin. Iwaizumi shoves him into a pile of dirty, wet leaves covered in a thin layer of soft snow, but that's just Iwaizumi. He doesn't mean that.


End file.
